


Sir, That's My Emotional Support Deputy

by ColorsofaYinYang



Series: Putting the Hope in Hope County [1]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Eden's Gate Cult, Angst and Humor, Canon Elements, Communication, Endgame John/Deputy, Holidays, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-03-05 11:41:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18827986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorsofaYinYang/pseuds/ColorsofaYinYang
Summary: This is just that meme that's like "stop it, get some help" but it's directed toward the Seeds and the "help" consists of three wacky deputies.





	1. a nice, normal family dinner

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [All Is Fair in Love and Real Estate](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18112445) by [ofdecadence (kittyboy)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittyboy/pseuds/ofdecadence). 
  * Inspired by [Mistakes Revisited](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17737784) by [BalefireFlatlands](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BalefireFlatlands/pseuds/BalefireFlatlands). 
  * Inspired by [Emergency Measures Will Be Taken](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14884886) by [Littlebiscuits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littlebiscuits/pseuds/Littlebiscuits). 



> There’s Faith, the youngest of the group, who (while friendly) seems to have no sense of personal space and is always wandering off on her own. Then there’s Jacob, the eldest, who lives up in the mountains with a shit-ton of guns and supposedly doesn’t like interacting with anybody save for an actual fucking wolf. Then there’s John, the snarky, quick-witted lawyer who seems to take immense joy in getting under Rook’s skin and pointing out all of his supposed sins. And of course, to top it all off there’s Joseph, the offbeat and dramatic preacher whose methods of worship include taking off his shirt at every opportunity and closing his eyes when he walks down the street.
> 
> Heavily inspired by the so-high-they're-out-of-their-minds Seeds from the Littlebiscuits fic "Emergency Measures Will Be Taken" (specifically Joseph, Jacob and Faith). Pratt's characterization is mostly from the BalefireFlatlands fic "Mistakes Revisited". John's personality is inspired by the ofdecadence fic "All Is Fair in Love and Real Estate". I also got Rook's oblivious, dry wit and absolutely done with the Seeds (specifically John) personality from a fic but I can't remember which one. Although that could also be canon tbh.

Staci’s just about to start jacking off on the couch when the doorbell rings. Sue him, he’s a young, hormonal 26 year old and Rook is fast asleep in the condo’s only bedroom, so there’s really no chance for privacy there. It’s been literal years since he’s last had a girlfriend (sophomore year of college, he thinks) and up until recently the department had been overflowing with cases, too much work for him to take a day off. He’s half tempted to just ignore the door and go on with his plan but the bell rings once more and he sighs, subjecting himself to another day of celibacy. He carelessly stashes the lube back under the couch cushion where it’s been for a few months (he’s still not sure if that’s even a safe place to put it) and goes to answer the door.

  
“Good afternoon!” A blonde girl around his age smiles up at him. She smells overwhelmingly of the earth and floral perfume, as if she had just rolled around in the forest minutes before. “My name is Faith!” She holds out her hand to shake.

  
He’s really glad he didn’t start masturbating yet, otherwise this would have been really awkward. “Uh, I’m Staci. Usually I just go by Pratt though. Did you need something?” He’s not wearing his deputy’s uniform, but since two out of three of the town’s deputies live in this one building he’s used to random people showing up whenever they need help.

  
Faith gives a nod and a shrug. “My brothers and I are new to this town, so I’m going around and introducing myself!” She bounces on her toes like she can’t seem to sit still.

  
“That’s… very polite of you. Better be careful though, some of the people in this town aren’t really good with strangers.” Faith beams at him as though he’s just saved her from drowning, and not as if he’s warning her about the grumpy old man across the street like any good neighbor would.

  
“Who’s it?” Rook slurs from behind him. He’s still rubbing sleep from his eyes, drowsily making his way over to the door. Earlier that evening he’d come back from work and promptly passed out, so he’s still in uniform. Faith waves brightly at him.

  
Staci makes a faltering hand gesture, trying to think of how to introduce them. “Um, this is Faith, her family’s new in town? Faith, this is Rook.”

  
“Nice to meet you, Deputy Rook,” she says, humming a bit. Then she offers Staci a card. “We’d love it if you two could come for dinner tomorrow. You can meet the rest of my family!” Staci and Rook exchange glances before Staci accepts the card.

  
“Sure, uh, we’ll be there.” An address and a time is written on the card. He tucks it into his pocket.

  
“Thank you so much! My brothers will love you both, I’m sure.” Out of nowhere she reaches up to grab Staci’s face and daintily kiss his forehead, then she waves to Rook behind him. “See you tomorrow!” Without further ado she turns and skips down the driveway, white dress swishing back and forth.

  
An awkward moment of silence passes as Staci tries to process what just happened.

  
Rook yawns. “Well, I’m going to make pancakes. You want some?”

  
He says yes. It’s pancakes, what does Rook expect?

  
~

  
They show up to the house 15 minutes late after a rushed shower at the station due to a last-minute report of a hit-and-run near the Henbane. The perp got out of the car, resulting in a frantic chase down the riverbank, and by the time they apprehended him they were covered in mud and brambles. Needless to say, they pushed the speed limit a little on their way to the house.

  
And what a house it is. A gorgeous two-story wooden lodge, surrounded by a wide expanse of land. Staci’s fairly sure he saw an airplane in the back. Who in the world are these people?

  
The door opens almost immediately after Rook rings the doorbell. “Rook, Pratt! You came!” Faith laughs, delighted. She hugs them both and ushers them inside. “I’m so glad, we thought you weren’t going to make it!”

  
“Yeah sorry, we got a little caught up at work,” Rook explains. “Hope we’re not too late.” Faith shakes her head, but before she can respond another voice cuts in.

  
“Of course not. Everything happens for a reason, and time is but a figment of our society. God willed you to be here at this exact moment, and so it is thus.” A man stands at the top of the stairs, completely shirtless and hair pulled back into a bun. He has really nice abs, Staci thinks, before blinking and averting his eyes.

  
Faith sighs, the first time she’s shown even a hint of something other than bubbly happiness. “Joseph, go put on a shirt.”

  
Joseph stares at her, uncomprehending. “God created us without clothing, as we are perfect in our natural state, and we should honor His will.”

  
“Put your damn clothes on, we have guests,” a rumbling voice comes from the kitchen. Joseph rolls his eyes but sighs and disappears into one of the rooms on the second floor. Staci glances at Rook to see if he’s as weirded out about this as he is, but Rook doesn’t seem to concerned. To be fair, he’s the most level-headed out of the county’s deputies; or maybe he’s just oblivious. Faith smiles at them again and ushers them into the dining room, pulling out their chairs. The table is set for five.

  
“He does things like that sometimes.” She smiles and shrugs at them. “Wait here, I’ll go get you some water, okay?” She leaves and Staci preoccupies himself with glancing around the room.

  
Long banners with a cross-like symbol on them adorn the walls. They must be a very religious family, although Staci doesn’t recognize the exact symbol. A large mounted set of moose antlers hangs above the fireplace, and a bearskin rug carpets the floor. Outside, he can see a runway strip, with the plane he saw earlier parked on it. A small greenhouse lies in the far corner of the property.

  
“Welcome to our humble abode,” Joseph says from the doorway, thankfully fully clothed. “My name is Joseph Seed.” He makes to sit at the head of the table. Faith comes back with a tray of full water glasses, carefully placing one in front of each seat. She then props the tray against the wall and gracefully sits across from Rook.

  
“Jacob should almost be done with the food,” she says. As if on cue, a redheaded man appears from the kitchen, carrying a platter of braised meat and grilled zucchini, and a packaged loaf of bread under his arm. He sets the food on the table, gaze flicking between the two of them, sizing them up. “This is our oldest brother, Jacob.” He nods in greeting, laser focused on Staci, who shrinks under the intensity of the attention.

  
“Let us say grace,” Joseph says. He and Faith stand in tandem, and Staci and Rook awkwardly copy. They link hands, and Staci tries to stifle his embarrassment, tentatively grasping Jacob’s across the table. “O Lord, thank you for this blessed meal. We are eternally grateful for being allowed to gather here today. May we continue to have your protection and guidance until the end of time. Amen.”

  
“Amen,” everyone murmurs, sitting down. Joseph begins passing around the dish of meat; upon closer inspection, it looks like venison. Jacob pulls a large serrated knife from nowhere and begins slicing up the bread.

  
Over the meal, Joseph starts a long ramble about why they moved to Hope County, their occupations, and so forth. Staci catches little snippets of the conversation: Joseph’s a preacher, starting his own church here, Faith is a florist, and so forth. But he can’t fully focus because piercing blue eyes are studying him from across the table, making no effort to be subtle about it. At one point he grows bold and maintains eye contact with Jacob for a whole minute. No one seems to notice, but after a while the redhead raises an eyebrow at him (as if he’s the one that’s being weird), and Staci lowers his gaze quickly, blood rushing to his cheeks. As the meal begins wrapping up, Faith goes to the kitchen and returns with a pan of carrot cake.

  
“Sorry John couldn’t be here, but he made cake!”

  
At Rook’s questioning look Joseph butts in. “John is our youngest brother,” he explains. “I’m sure you’ll see him around; he’s a lawyer so he goes into town quite often.” He gestures around. “This is actually his house, but he has graciously allowed us to stay here for the time being. Although, Jacob has his own cabin up in the mountains.” Faith cuts the cake and dishes out the slices to everyone except the redhead, who waves her away when she tries to give him one.

  
The rich buttery flavor of the frosting stays in Staci’s mouth for the rest of the evening, from when Faith insists on showing them her greenhouse (filled with all sorts of flowers and plants) all the way to when Joseph holds the door for them on their way out. They say their goodbyes, Faith’s bubbly laughter and Joseph’s gentle smile and Jacob’s intense fucking gaze following them all the way to the car.

  
The drive back is quiet for the most part; Rook likes driving with the windows down, and the empty roads leave only the sound of the wind.

  
Just as they turn into the driveway, Staci mumbles, “So you didn’t notice anything strange? Anything at all?”

  
“What are you talking about? They seem like nice, ordinary people.”

  
Definitely oblivious, then.

  
~

  
“There’s something weird about that Seed family,” Hudson announces in lieu of a greeting when they arrive at the precinct Monday morning. Staci sends Rook an “I told you so” look, to which Rook rolls his eyes.

  
“Did they invite you over?” Staci asks. Hudson nods.

  
“Yeah, for lunch. Faith was practically in my lap.”

  
“She’s not a fan of personal bubbles.” Staci pauses. “What about Jacob?”

  
Hudson looks up from her paperwork. “Who, the redhead? He left almost as soon as the meal was over. Not a talker, that one. But he was the most normal out of the four.” Rook’s head snaps up from across the room.

  
“There were four people?”

  
“Yeah, Faith, Joseph, John and Jacob,” Hudson lists, ticking them off on her fingers. “You didn’t meet all of them?”

  
Rook shakes his head. “John wasn’t there. What’s he like?”

  
“He’s a total asshole.” Hudson grins. “I like him.”

  
“Wait, wait. Was Jacob looking at anything in particular?” Staci asks, desperately trying to get the conversation back on track. Hudson shrugs.

  
“Not that I’m aware of. His head was down most of the time.” She peers at him closely. “Are you all right?”

  
“He’s fine,” Rook calls. “Just paranoid that Jacob Seed’s out to get him.” Staci flips him off and logs into the computer to start filling out spreadsheets. “There’s nothing to worry about, Pratt. In fact, I bet we won’t even see them that much!”

  
~

  
Rook eats those words two days later when a man walks right into the station, past the flustered receptionist and promptly takes a seat in his chair. Rook sputters, cup of coffee in hand, and gestures for the man to move. The man just smiles up at him, shades perched on his forehead.

  
“Deputy Rook.”

  
“Sorry, but who are you?”

  
“I believe you ate dinner with my family a few nights ago,” the man remarks. “My name is John Seed.” At Rook’s look of surprise he smirks. “My brother sent me to give you this, I believe you lost it at our house.” He holds a hand up; a small charm dangles from his fingers. He has a lot of tattoos, Staci notices.

  
Rook peers at it for a second before checking his belt. The small chain that’s supposed to be securing the charm to the belt has snapped. “Huh, I didn’t even notice,” he says. “Thanks.” He makes to take the charm but John moves it out of his reach.

  
“Hold on. What do you know about Sharky Boshaw?” Rook makes a face.

  
“Nice guy, but sets fire to things a lot. Doesn’t mean any harm, though. Why?”

  
“He’s one of my clients. Do you think I could see the security footage around the back of the Spread Eagle at, say, approximately 2 AM Saturday morning?”

  
Rook frowns; Staci snorts and tries to act uninterested. “Why would I show you classified tapes just for a small trinket?” John raises an eyebrow.

  
“Let’s see, there’s a name on here. Must be someone pretty important if you carry this around all day. You should probably get a better chain. Unless you don’t want it back, of course…”

  
“Fine, I’ll show you the tape.” Rook groans, wheeling John out of the way as he leans in to log onto the computer. “Isn’t this illegal?”

  
John plays with the charm, lounging in Rook’s chair. “I have a great lawyer.” He sits up when Rook plays the tape. It must be pretty boring, because he sighs, forehead crinkling. “Next hour, please.”

  
“Listen, John,” Rook says, making himself as large as possible. “I’ve done what you asked. Give me the charm and get out.”

  
“Or what?”

  
“I won’t hesitate to remove you with force.” A couple of staff members have started taking notice, glancing warily over their way. Hudson’s grinning, though. This is the kind of entertainment she loves.

  
John looks up at Rook through half-lidded eyes. “Wrath is a sin, you know,” he murmurs. With one hand he reaches around Rook to place the charm on the desk, pinning Rook in the process. Then he backs away and smiles; the slow, dangerous smile of a predator. “I’ll see you around, Deputy.” He saunters out of the station, nodding at Hudson when she raises a hand in greeting. Rook sighs heavily, slumping into his chair as he closes the footage on his computer.

  
“Still think the Seeds are normal?” Staci can’t help but prod. Rook glares at him.


	2. frozen in place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter in Montana means snow season.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This slow burn is more like a "turn the stove to 'warm' and wait for the water to boil" kind of slow. Which is nice when you're distracted from the stove and then you remember hours later and the water's finally hot, but not nice when all you want is a cup of hot chocolate. No idea where I was going with this metaphor, but just know that this whole relationships thing is probably going to take awhile.

John calls Rook’s cell about 12 times over the next two days. Staci’s not even sure how he got the number in the first place, until he realizes Rook has business cards on his desk, and that John must have snagged one. Every time the sound of the Stranger Things theme floats through the air Rook grits his teeth, takes a deep breath, and forces himself to answer politely. After the 12th call Staci overhears Rook telling John to “just text” him.

  
“Atta boy,” Hudson snickers, ruffling his hair as she passes on her way to the copying machine. Rook rubs the bridge of his nose in frustration as he listens to John ramble over the phone.

  
“Pratt!” The Sheriff’s voice booms across the busy room. “My office!” Staci’s brow furrows. Is he in trouble?

  
As Staci enters, the Sheriff gestures for him to take a seat. “Nothin’ bad, don’t worry,” he says. “We got a report a couple of minutes ago. Illegal dumping up in the Whitetails, apparently. Go check it out, no need to do a full examination, just a survey.” He stands, looks out the window. “Heard a storm’s brewing. Better to get back before it starts snowing, I reckon.”

  
“Should I take Rook?” Staci asks. Normally they’re partnered together for patrols and stuff like that. The Sheriff shakes his head, handing over a short report of the situation.

  
“Nah, just be quick about it.” Staci nods and takes his leave, glancing over the report. This particular area of the Whitetails is only about a 30 minute drive from the station, so it shouldn’t take too long. It looks like Rook finally hung up on John, and Staci gives him a quick summary of what’s going on. He waves to Hudson on his way out.

  
The road to the Whitetails is long, mildly unsafe. Rockslides are not uncommon in these areas, after all. He drives carefully, making sure there’s no wildlife on the road or other dangerous conditions. Aft the 47 mile marker he pulls over to the side, parking and locking the car. This is where the report says to go. He double checks his gun is at his hip before entering the forest.

  
The cool mountain air sends a shiver down his spine, shade from the trees causing the temperature to fall even further. He hikes into the woods, staying alert for any movement. About a quarter of a mile in, the earthy musk of moss and decaying wood turns into the sharp, unmistakable scent of gasoline. He frowns, bending down to run a finger along the ground. The soil is soaked, rainbow oil stains scattered all around the area.

  
He spend the next hour exploring the forest, looking for any signs of dumping that would explain this: car parts, empty gasoline cans, broken down vehicles like motorcycles. But there’s nothing. By the time he returns to the car he’s thoroughly suspicious. The smallest spark could set this entire forest ablaze. Good thing it’s snowing.

  
And that’s when he realizes. It’s snowing.

  
Fuck.

  
~

  
Halfway back to town he gets a text that the pass is closed due to avalanche warnings and he almost dies of disappointment. He’ll have to turn back and find a safe place to camp out in the car, good thing he has emergency supplies in the back… he’s so lost in thought that he almost misses the small road disappearing into the forest. Carefully he backs up, and stares at the distant light of a cabin. Perhaps, if he’s polite enough, he’ll be able to secure shelter for the night.

  
He drives up the road slowly, until a giant fence blocks the way. Looks like he’ll have to make the rest of the trek on foot. Cautiously, he parks and gets out of the car. The wind instantly hits him, freezing cold and blowing flurries of snowflakes around his face. Why on earth hadn’t he brought a jacket?!

  
The snow is already a couple inches thick as he trudges through it, following the path up to the cabin. As he gets closer, he notices a couple of cages against the side wall. One of them is soaked in blood. That’s not good.

  
He hesitates for a moment, but he has a gun. A gun can protect him against a serial killer. A gun can’t protect him against snow. He goes to knock on the door.

  
The door swings open right before he knocks on it and a white streak barrels into him. Startled, he falls on his back into the snow, fur in his mouth. The streak bounces around him, nudging him with a cold nose and panting into his face. As he blinks, reorienting himself, a large figure appears in the doorway.

  
“Deputy Pratt,” the figure says, the rasp of his voice almost too quiet to hear over the sounds of the fucking **wolf** that’s just attacked him. “Miss me that much?”

  
Staci takes a moment to process that yes, he’s somehow stumbled upon Jacob fucking Seed’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm. And there’s still a wolf trying to lick his face. Jacob extends a hand to help him up and he takes it dazedly, shaking the snow out of his hair as he blinks.

  
“Jacob?”

  
The redhead frowns and reaches out to turn Staci’s face to the side and examine the light claw marks left on his cheek, ignoring the bright red flush that erupts under his fingers. “You all right? Judge likes to think anything moving is her prey.”

  
Staci leans back out of his grasp and tries to ignore the fact that “Judge” is trying to nuzzle her head against his hand. “You have a wolf?”

  
“She’s a hunting dog.” That’s not a dog, that’s a fucking wolf. Judge trots over to Jacob’s side, sitting down and shaking water from her fur. At least she seems friendly enough; she didn’t try to bite his face off or anything. Jacob turns and walks inside, leaving the door wide open. “Coming?” he says without looking back.

  
Cautiously Staci steps inside. The cabin is sparsely decorated: a large set of antlers hangs on the wall (similar to the one at John’s house) and some sort of pelt is pinned up next to it. Four chairs and a wooden table are squished into the corner near the stove and countertop, and the fire in the fireplace is steadily flickering, sending uncertain shadows skittering along the floor. A worn sofa is situated near the fire. The door to an adjoining room is half open, but Staci can’t see anything inside. He assumes it’s a bedroom.

  
There’s also a shitload of guns. The many hunting rifles and shotguns mounted on the wall he recognizes, but there’s a military grade sniper rifle propped up in the corner near the fireplace, and a few handguns laying on the table. An uneasy shiver runs up his spine.

  
“What brings you out here, Peaches? Not just here to make small talk with me, I presume.”

  
_Peaches?_ Staci’s mind supplies unhelpfully. “The uh, pass is closed, I was looking for a place to stay the night. Am. Looking.”

  
Jacob drags his gaze over Staci, considering. “Well, I’m not going to let an officer of the law freeze to death just outside my home, am I?” He’s not undressing Staci with his eyes, but he manages to make it even more uncomfortable than if he was. Honestly, at this point Staci would probably prefer that. At least he’d know what was going on in Jacob’s head. The older man motions for him to follow as he nudges open the door to the bedroom.

  
Staci prays the man’s not a serial killer.

  
Jacob starts rummaging through the contents of a chest against the wall. He pulls out a cotton t-shirt and some pants, holding them out for Staci to take. “Change of clothes,” he explains. “I’ll be outside.” He leaves, closing the door behind him.

  
Staci quickly strips, putting on the borrowed clothes. His uniform is soaked through; hopefully by tomorrow it’ll be at least somewhat dry. Then, while he still has the privacy, he texts Rook the situation.

  
_Stay safe_ , Rook’s response says. Followed by, _Don’t ever make me hitch a ride with Hudson again._

  
_Deal_ , Staci replies with a laughing emoji. He takes a deep breath and grabs his dripping bundle of clothes, opening the door.

  
Jacob’s slicing something up in the makeshift kitchen. The knife sounds sharp, the metallic _shink_ of the blade hitting the cutting board sounding vaguely threatening. He turns to Staci, hands bloody.

  
“I’ll grab those from you,” he says nonchalantly, going to rinse his hands in the sink. Staci tries to shake the deer-in-the-headlights look from his face and hands Jacob the clothes, who then lays them out near the fireplace. “You eat yet?” Staci shakes his head.

  
That’s how they end up sitting across from each other, quietly picking at the bones of an unfortunate duck. Staci takes his time eating, trying to prolong this shaky peace between them.

  
“Sorry it’s not much,” Jacob offers. “I don’t normally have visitors.”

  
_Makes sense_ , Staci thinks, decidedly not saying that out loud. “You’re in the military?” he asks instead, gesturing to Jacob’s uniform. The other’s lips twitch into a frown.

  
“Used to be,” is all he says. When the meal is over, he takes the plates over to the sink and begins washing them. It’s the most normal thing Staci’s seen him do. He forces himself not to stare, and instead goes to the bathroom to wash his face.

  
“You want the bed?” Jacob asks when he returns. Staci blinks at him for a moment.

  
“Oh, no I’ll just sleep over here,” he waves vaguely at the fireplace/sofa area. Jacob raises an eyebrow but shrugs.

  
“If you insist.” He puts a hand on Staci’s shoulder as he walks past. “The door’ll be open if you need anything.”

  
Staci gets situated on the couch, pulling the ragged blanket that had been draped over the back over himself. It’s not particularly comfortable, and despite the fireplace nearby is not particularly warm, either. He suffers silently for about an hour, then gives up and pads over to Jacob’s room. The wood is freezing under his feet.

  
He knocks on the wall to alert Jacob to his presence. “It’s cold,” he says when Jacob rolls over to look at him. “You have any extra blankets or something?”

  
Jacob shakes his head. Then he moves over and pats the newly vacated space next to him. It says something about his state of mind that Staci only hesitates for a moment before tentatively laying down. The sheets are warm, a welcome contrast to the chilly air all around them. Jacob shifts to get closer and Staci instinctively inches away.

  
“Relax, Peaches,” Jacob’s low growl of a voice says. “I’m not going to bite.” Staci flushes with mortification. Against his better judgement he stays still, and is rewarded with Jacob’s warm back pressed against his own. It’s… comfortable, and completely bizarre.

  
The last thought he has before drifting off is, _How did I end up in bed with Jacob fucking Seed?_

  
_~_

  
By the time he awakens the bed is empty. His clothes are folded and stacked on the nightstand. Just as he’s finished changing, Judge bursts into the room and starts licking his bare feet. He carefully pats her head and she makes a whining, delighted sound.

  
“Sorry. I tried to stop her,” Jacob offers, leaning against the doorway. He looks… amused.

  
“She’s very friendly,” Staci comments, watching Judge sniff around the room.

  
Jacob whistles and Judge immediately darts out of the room with a short howl. “Want breakfast? Joseph brings me groceries sometimes.” He pulls a carton of eggs out of the fridge, along with half an onion and a bag of small golden potatoes. Staci watches him pull out a pan, turn on the stovetop, and ten minutes later they have two piping hot omelets on the table.

  
“You’re really good at cooking,” Staci compliments absently. Jacob shrugs.

  
“It’s what happens when you have to take care of your three younger siblings,” he responds. “John got all the baking genes, though. I just set things on fire.”

  
Staci snorts impulsively, then blinks as he processes what Jacob said. Did he just make a joke? Before he can dwell on it too much, his phone vibrates in his pocket.

  
_You still alive?_ It’s Rook. _The pass is open now, I think._

  
Staci quickly types back, _Thanks for the notice, I’ll start heading back._ When he looks up Jacob is watching him again.

  
“Rook said the pass is open.” Jacob nods.

  
“I started shoveling out the car already. You should be good to go.” Staci looks at him incredulously, but Jacob just rolls his eyes and opens the door. “I’ll walk you out.”

  
True to his word, the half a foot of snow has been cleared around the car, creating a path leading out to the main road. Staci gets in, checks the engine, and rolls down the window.

  
“Thank you. For um, everything, really.” He’s genuinely thankful to have survived the night. Whether that’s entirely Jacob’s fault is another matter. But the man did make him really good food, so that boosts his standing in Staci’s eyes. From serial killer to moderately creepy. But it’s bearable, now, maybe even somewhat endearing. God, he sounds like he has Stockholm syndrome.

  
Jacob waves his gratitude off. “Feel free to come back anytime, Peaches.” His eyes are as fiercely blue as ever, but the small upturn to the corner of his lips betrays his thoughts. He’s been staring too long, Staci realizes. With a nod he looks over his shoulder to back up to the main road. Judge gives a short howl as he rounds the corner, disappearing from view.

  
The roads are more wet than icy, dirty snow piled up on the sides. The snow plows must have come through, Staci thinks. He hums as he makes the drive home, mulling over the case and Jacob's strange hospitality. Maybe he will go back, sometime later. Although, he probably shouldn't push his luck.


	3. ignorance is bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternatively titled: Rook makes fun of Pratt for over a thousand words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter this time, but hopefully just as enjoyable.

“You slept with Jacob Seed?” Rook exclaims a little too loudly, prompting strange looks from their coworkers.

  
“Fuck, no! I mean,” Staci lowers his voice. “Yes, but it wasn’t like that. Technically, we sleep together,” he reminds Rook, referencing their shitty one-bedroom condo. Rook talks right over him.

  
“You mean to tell me that you stayed over at his place and **didn’t** let him put his hands all over you?”

  
“Rook, I swear to God,” Staci hisses. “If you don’t stop talking right now I’m going to put your head through a wall.”

  
Rook raises his hands in a placating manner. “Alright, alright! Geez, someone’s cranky today.” He looks at Staci with a slow smirk. “You sure you weren’t up all night-“ He laughs as Staci lunges at him.

  
“Rook,” Hudson calls disapprovingly. “Leave the poor boy alone after he just got laid.”

  
Staci groans while Rook chuckles. “Not you, too! I didn’t get laid,” he insists. The other man holds up a finger, as though he’s had an epiphany.

  
“Maybe,” he says slowly. “He’s cranky because he **didn’t** get laid.”

  
“Maybe I’m cranky because my two friends are being total assholes right now,” Staci retorts. Hudson shrugs in a what-can-you-do gesture. Before she can respond, the station door slams open, revealing two people. The man is slumped over half on the ground, the woman with him panicking as she tries to hold him up.

  
“We need a medic!” Someone shouts, and the Sheriff himself rushes over to help. Rook jumps up too, snagging a first aid kit on the way. They carry the man inside, propping him up in one of the visitors chairs.

  
“Can you tell me what happened?” The Sheriff asks the woman, who seems hysterical. She grabs his hands.

  
“It’s the Bliss, the Bliss!” She sobs once, then falls deathly quiet. “We wanted to enter Eden,” she tells the Sheriff seriously. “But the gate’s rejecting us.” She starts shaking and crying again.

  
“It’s those blasted cultists,” Burke mutters with obvious disgust. “The “Project,” or whatever they call themselves. Keep these Peggies here, I’ll go after them myself.” He makes to leave but the Sheriff stops him.

  
“Let’s not jump to conclusions, now. Rook, Pratt, you two go investigate. You know where the new church is, just head on over and see what’s up.” Staci quickly nods his assent. Burke glares at them as they leave.

  
The Eden’s Gate church, located near the outskirts of town, is chock-full of people when they arrive. They sit in the last row of pews, uniforms sticking out like a sore thumb in the middle of everyone’s Sunday best (or Tuesday best, Staci supposes). Joseph’s in the middle of a sermon, waving a book around passionately as he speaks. He’s still wearing those yellow-tinted glasses, hair in a neat bun. He would look like a struggling artist if not for the intensity in his eyes. It’s obvious he believes full-heartedly in every word he’s saying. John and Faith are standing behind their brother, watching the crowd. Faith’s fidgeting, only half listening, while John’s intently soaking up everything his brother utters, nodding in agreement every so often.

  
Jacob is notably absent, sending a small wave of relief through Staci. He ignores the twinge of disappointment; that’s a whole can of worms for another day. Joseph talks for another 8 minutes or so, then John takes the stage. He spits out a 6 and a half minute speech about sin, dramatic and just as charismatic as his brother. Rook scoffs at his theatrics. John’s eyes narrow when he spots them sitting in the back, but by then Faith’s pulling him back, allowing Joseph to wrap up the sermon. Faith thanks everyone for coming, and just before they dismiss everyone Staci sees John whisper something to his brother. Joseph looks directly at them, eyes piercing right through them, and beckons them to come. Rook and Staci stand as the crowd slowly disperses, and the Seeds disappear through a door in the back. The two deputies turn to each other, shrug, and follow.

  
The door leads to a small lounge area. The three siblings are on the couch: Joseph hunched over in the center looking lost in thought, John stretching out languidly next to him, and Faith perched on the arm. John nods at Staci, a courtesy, before turning all his attention on Rook. “Deputy.”

  
“John.” The two proceed to engage in the most awkwardly intense staring match Staci’s ever seen. After what feels like a couple minutes Joseph coughs, breaking the silence.

  
“This is your first time attending our church, correct? Did you enjoy the sermon?”

  
“It was very… heartfelt,” Staci replies, wincing internally. He’s never been a very religious man, but it’s obvious the Seeds are very passionate about their cause. Joseph doesn’t seem too bothered by his lackluster response, and merely nods sagely as if understanding his inner struggle.

  
Rook finally glances away from John to wink at Staci before asking, “Where’s Jacob?” John looks low-key disappointed that Rook gave up on their little spat.

  
“Jacob is… not the best with the religious aspect of our church,” Joseph says. He puts a hand on Faith’s shoulder to steady her; it seems like she’s falling asleep, leaning precariously to one side. “He is more involved with the security, doesn’t like to be on stage. You must have missed him on his way out; he usually makes sure our followers get to their vehicles safely before returning here. He’ll be back any minute if you need to talk to him.”

  
“Nah, just curious. We would like to talk to you, though.” John instantly perks up, attentive. “Could you tell me what the ‘Bliss’ is?”

  
Joseph leans forward, tapping his fingertips together, and looks up from under his yellow-tinted glasses. “The Bliss is a drug we give to our followers that opens their minds to the truth and helps them become happier with who they are.”

  
Staci and Rook look at each other. “Listen, two people showed up at the station earlier today suffering from the effects of this Bliss stuff you’re giving out. One was passed out and the other was having mood swings and not making much sense.”

  
“That’s impossible,” John interrupts sharply.

  
“I’m not trying to cast blame on anyone just yet,” Rook responds. “I’m just saying, you’re new in town, and people here don’t really trust outsiders. It’s going to look very suspicious if you’ve been handing out dangerous drugs willy-nilly.”

  
Joseph looks deeply disturbed. He shakes his head and sighs deeply, wiping his glasses with a cloth from his pocket before putting them back on his face. “What I’m about to tell you is classified information,” he says. “If you need to tell the Sheriff, that’s fine. Just don’t go telling any members of our church.”

  
“We can’t promise anything,” Rook warns. Joseph nods solemnly.

  
“It’s impossible for the Bliss to cause those symptoms,” he explains. “The premise of the pills is that they help the flock mentally and spiritually. They don’t cause physical changes.” He pauses, looks them in the eyes. “They are made of sugar, nothing more.”

  
Rook squints in confusion. “They’re fake pills? How does that work, then?”

  
“Placebo is a very powerful effect. If one has faith that the pills will work, then they will experience the expected healing from them. This is why this conversation cannot leave the room.”

  
Staci interrupts. “Not to be rude, but could we have a couple of those pills? We’d like to test them.”

  
“That’s a good idea. In case someone decides to sue, we’ll have some physical evidence in our favor,” John mutters. Joseph stands and opens a small cabinet in the corner. He fishes out a small glass vial and hands it to Rook, who shakes it a little, examining the contents.

  
“Feel free to ask any of our flock for some of their Bliss as well,” Joseph offers. “In case you want a randomly chosen batch.”

  
“Thank you,” Rook says. Joseph puts his hand on Rook’s shoulder.

  
“No, thank you. I hope you solve your mystery soon.” He touches Staci’s arm in farewell as he brushes by them. John nudges Faith awake and she waves goodbye.

  
As they walk out of the church, they pass Jacob, carrying an army duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He raises a hand in greeting. Staci turns beet red and stutters out a hello as Rook smirks like Jacob just made his day. The redhead disappears through the doors to reunite with his family as the two deputies climb into their car.

  
“Don’t say a damn word,” Staci mutters as he starts up the engine.

  
Rook makes fun of him the whole drive back to the station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “You slept with Jacob Seed?” Rook exclaims.  
> ^Rook have you looked at the tags? You can't judge.


	4. broken glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things have reached a tipping point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was mostly me "admiring" Jacob Seed but also has some plot to it so.

The pills they confiscate turn out to be sugar, and the blood samples from the Peggies turn out to contain LSD. None of that matters though, because the next day two major things happen: Joseph Seed is arrested and the mountains catch on fire.

  
It starts with this: Burke brings in a warrant for Joseph’s arrest, on the grounds of some vague out of state charges. Everyone has their doubts about the validity of the warrant, but until they can contact the judge that issued it there’s nothing they can do but go through with the arrest. Pratt’s taking the day off, the lucky bastard, so Rook and Hudson go to take Joseph into custody alongside Burke.

  
The church is mostly empty; Joseph and John are the only two inside, discussing some sort of spreadsheet over coffee.

  
“Joseph Seed?” Burke calls, his voice echoing in the church. “I have a warrant for your arrest.”

  
John immediately jumps to his brother’s defense, outraged. “That’s ridiculous, he’s done nothing wrong.” He makes to stand up, but to everyone’s surprise Joseph puts a hand on his shoulder and gestures for him to remain seated.

  
“This is how things are meant to happen.” His gaze falls upon Rook. “I am not guilty of any crimes, Deputy,” he says quietly. “But I understand that taking me into custody is what you must do. I will come willingly.”

  
Burke huffs. He was probably expecting more resistance than that. “Rook, cuff him,” he instructs.

  
“Wait, wait, you can’t do this!” John interjects, giving his brother a wide-eyed look. “Who’s going to run the church? Lead prayers? Give the flock the support they need?” He makes a bunch of frantic hand gestures.

  
Joseph cups his face and touches their foreheads together reassuringly. “I trust you to lead the flock,” he says simply.

  
“B-but,” John sputters in protest, body tense as if he’s uncomfortable.

  
Joseph gives him a gentle smile. “I will only be gone a few days. You will have Faith and Jacob to help you, as well.” Burke nudges Rook in the shoulder, urging him to hurry up with the arrest, already.

  
“You really want ME to lead?” John whispers urgently, as though he needs the confirmation. Joseph nods as Rook carefully puts the cuffs on him.

  
“I have faith that you will do well,” he replies. It’s then that Hudson taps Rook on the arm, pointing to something outside. He takes a look.

  
A plume of smoke is billowing up from the mountains, and even from here the red-yellow glow of a fire can be seen. The faint smoky scent of cedar burning wafts into the church with one of the winter gusts. Joseph’s brow furrows, and he murmurs Jacob’s name under his breath.

  
That’s right, he did say something earlier about Jacob living in the mountains. Rook hesitantly pats Joseph on the shoulder, feeling awkward about comforting a person he’s just put cuffs on. But Joseph seems to appreciate it, leaning into his hand.

  
“I’ll send someone to check on him,” Rook assures. John raises his chin defiantly.

  
“I’ll go,” he asserts. Joseph shakes his head.

  
“I’d rather not put both of my brothers in harms way. Let them handle it, John.”

  
Burke clears his throat, tapping his foot impatiently. “Make whatever calls you need, Rook, but we need to take this guy to the station. Now.”

  
Pratt’s going to be pissed. But he’s going to see Jacob, so hopefully he won’t murder Rook TOO much when he gets back.

  
~

  
Staci wakes up feeling more refreshed than he has in years. His face is warm from the sunlight streaming in through the curtains, and for once he can stretch and move around without Rook groaning and telling him it’s too early. He lounges in bed, enjoying the luxury for a while. But months of working nonstop have conditioned him to wake up at ungodly hours, and he quickly grows restless, itching for something to do.

  
He showers, makes breakfast (eggs and toast, for lack of anything more substantial in the fridge) and does the dishes. It’s strange not needing to be anywhere, and his body is naturally suspicious of it. Feeling twitchy, he takes a quick morning jog, and afterwards he ends up sprawled on the couch with a hand down his pants.

  
Normally around this time his mind would wander to generic images: soft skin, red lips and gentle curves doing more than enough to keep him interested. But, as he tightens his grip just on the right side of too harsh, he imagines something else. Rough, scarred skin and coarse red hair, the firm, solid line of a man’s waist between his hands. Blue, blue eyes that turn green in the sun, the bristle of a neatly trimmed beard against his skin. A low voice growling ‘Peaches’ in his ear and a steady hand directing him to where he’s most needed.

  
He thinks of Jacob Seed and he swears he’s never come harder in his life.

  
Afterwards, he tries not to ruminate on it too much. Jacob’s a handsome man, Staci’s still young (relatively), of course he’d be attracted to him. And it’s purely a physical attraction. Definitely has nothing to do with the fact that Staci’d give anything to be able to sleep in the same bed as him every night, to be able to crane his neck up for kisses any time he wants, to be able to run his fingers over the scars on his face and soothe the carefully shuttered pain in his eyes.

  
A wave of shame and embarrassment washes over him. Fuck, he’s got it bad.

  
He doesn’t have time for the panic to set in though because his phone rings, caller ID reading Rook, and Staci automatically answers it.

  
Rook’s voice is echoing, as if he’s in a large room or something. “Pratt, sorry to bother you on your illustrious day off but I’m going to need to call in the Badger accident.”

  
The Badger incident; Staci shivers to remember. Rook doesn’t sound too concerned but it must be something big for him to even bring that up, let alone call in the favor. Staci half dreads his next words.

  
“What exactly do you need?”

  
~

  
Staci’s been in pretty dangerous situations before, so this wildfire is relatively tame in comparison. On his way to Jacob’s cabin he sees a group of firefighters already working to put the fire out. The smoke is abundant but not overly dark, manageable enough that he can see through it.

  
Judge bounds up to the car as he parks at the gate, yipping excitedly. Seconds later, Jacob appears behind her, pressing a wet cloth over his nose and mouth. He gives a short wave in greeting.  
“John told me you might show up.” His voice is muffled from the cloth, but Staci can hear the fond exasperation in his voice. “C’mere, I need you for something.”

  
He brings Staci around to the back, where the corpse of a large cat lies on a blue tarp. Upon closer inspection, it’s neither a corpse nor a traditional cat; Staci takes an instinctive step back when the mountain lion lifts its sandy-colored head to glance at him indifferently.

  
“Easy, she won’t bite. Her leg’s fractured,” Jacob explains. “Mind the claws, though.” He kneels down next to the prone animal, stroking her flank. Judge comes over to investigate and the mountain lion growls defensively, curling into herself. Jacob pushes the wolf’s wet snout away, pointing to the cabin. Judge whines but reluctantly slinks back inside. “I just need you to put a splint on the break. I have to muzzle her in case she panics and tries to attack, but I don’t exactly have one of those on hand.”

  
“So how are you going to do it?” Staci asks.

  
“Well, I’m just going to hold this scarf around her mouth.” He pulls a navy and black snakeskin patterned scarf from his pocket like a magician. “John got it for me. ‘S not like I’m going to use it, anyway.” Staci shrugs in acknowledgment. It’s nice, sure, but he definitely can’t imagine Jacob wearing it. Then he processes exactly what Jacob just said.

  
“You’re just going to hold her still? Aren’t mountain lions like really strong?”

  
“Eh, it’s not like she’s in tip top condition. And she seems calm enough, I probably won’t even need the scarf to be honest.”

  
Staci frowns. “You really should be more concerned about your wellbeing.” Jacob turns a flat stare at him.

  
“Pratt, I know what I’m doing. I’ve been helping wildlife for years.” Staci can’t help but make a surprised sound at that, and Jacob rolls his eyes. “What did you think the cages were for? You’re an observant kid, I know you saw them last time you were here.”

  
“You don’t want to know what I thought they were for,” Staci mumbles miserably. Jacob purses his lips in a sort of half-smile.

  
“I know you’re a police officer, and you can’t help but worry. But I don’t enjoy being doubted, Peaches.” He casually claps a hand on the nape of Staci’s neck and squeezes a little, causing him to stiffen under the touch. “Let’s get this poor girl patched up now, shall we?”

  
The mountain lion puts up a halfhearted struggle as Jacob wraps the scarf around her maw, but quickly gives up and settles her head on the ground. She doesn’t show any other signs of aggression, which Staci takes as a sign to continue. He gingerly kneels on the cold, frozen ground and reaches for the wounded leg. Jacob puts his arm around the feline’s neck, holding her in place as Staci carefully makes a splint with the supplies left nearby: a long piece of wood and a roll of bandages.

  
Once it’s done, they use the tarp to carry the mountain lion into the cabin, leaving her in a back room Staci hadn’t noticed the last time he was there. “Normally I’d use the cages, but it’s not good to leave her out in the smoke,” Jacob explains without being prompted. Then: “What should I name her?”

  
“Name?” Staci asks, utterly confused. “Are you keeping her?”

  
“Nah,” Jacob replies, wiping his hands on his pants. “But I always name the animals I take care of. It helps me remember who needs what.”

  
_That makes sense, I guess_ , Staci thinks. “How about Sandy? Because of her color?”

  
Jacob grins at him. “Color, huh? Unoriginal.” He ignores Staci’s offended glare and leans over the kitchen counter to ruffle his hair. “But you might be onto something. I think I’ll name her Peaches.”

  
Staci feels his face flush red and he ducks to look at the wooden floor on instinct, trying to hide it. Jacob’s amused chuckling causes him to flush even further in mortification. “Stop,” he groans.

  
“Nothing to be embarrassed about. I named a falcon I found after Joseph and a bat after Faith. John got the honor of having his name passed to a baby crow.”

  
Staci laughs a little at that, his mind comparing a fuzzy, loud little bird to the snarky, sharp witted man who seems to take immense pleasure in stealing all of Rook’s attention. He braves a glance up and meets Jacob’s attentive stare. A moment passes where they just look at each other.

  
“It’ll take a couple weeks at the minimum for the break to heal,” Jacob finally says. He gives Staci an unidentifiable look. “If you want, you can come back and check on her every so often. She seemed to take to you a lot better than she took to me.”

  
“Sure, I’ll do that. Do you like, need anything? For her to eat, or...?”

  
“Thanks for the thought, Peaches, but I’ll just go hunting for the stuff she normally eats. Deer, rodents, you know.” At Staci’s slightly crestfallen look he adds, “If you have the time though, I’d appreciate it if you could drop by John’s house and grab a bottle of my medicine. He knows which one I’m talking about. Here.” He takes a receipt from the counter and scrawls something on it, handing it to Staci. “Text me before you come over, alright?”

  
“Uh, okay.” Staci wills himself not to stare at the phone number in his hand, instead dragging his gaze upward. Over Jacob’s shoulder, the kitchen window provides a view of the billowing smoke clouds, slowly dying away. “I think the fire’s calming down.” He moves to peer outside, scanning the horizon. Jacob follows him, standing a little to the left and behind him, gaze distant and fixed.

  
Staci has to fight every urge in his body not to sway back into the solid mass emanating heat behind him. He can smell smoke on Jacob’s clothes from where he was working outside, faint but still masking the man’s natural musk, and catches himself trying to pick out the latter scent. Slowly, he huffs out an exhale, trying to calm his racing heartbeat.

  
All attempts to reign himself in are abandoned, however, when he turns and catches a glimpse of Jacob’s absent expression. His face is relaxed, unguarded. A stray sunbeam peeks out from behind the clouds, showering him in golden light, and Staci dreamily wonders whether it’s possible to pinpoint the exact moment one falls in love. In the end, the sudden overwhelming emotion in his chest coupled with his fantasy from that morning is what tips him over the edge. In a burst of uncharacteristic boldness, he darts in and drops a kiss on the corner of Jacob’s mouth, lingering just long enough to feel the rough texture of his lips before the other man tenses and puts a hand between them.

  
“I like you,” Staci blurts out, absolutely terrified that Jacob’s about to kick him out and never talk to him again. But the blue eyes studying him aren’t sharp with anger; instead, he looks almost heartbroken.

  
“Don’t tempt me, Peaches,” he murmurs. “You deserve much better than this old man.” Staci crinkles his brow, squinting up at him.

  
“What? Jacob, you can’t possibly believe that.” The redhead shrugs, avoiding his eyes.

  
“It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it. War wasn’t kind to me. If you think all this shit,” he gestures to the scars and burn marks on his face, “is bad, you should see the inside of my head.” He forces a grin, rueful. “I’m broken glass, Pratt. Try to pick me up and you’re gonna get cut.”

  
“Don’t say that!” Staci says, incensed. “You’re not broken. And you don’t look bad. I-“ A ringing from his pocket interrupts him. He huffs out a disgusted noise and declines the call, not even glancing at the screen. “What I’m trying to say is you’re a good person. You’re not going to hurt me. If anything-“ His phone rings again. With an exasperated groan he answers and brings it up to his ear.

  
“Rook, I’m fucking in the middle of something here.” He sends Jacob an apologetic look, to which he raises an amused eyebrow. Dropping a pat on his shoulder, Jacob slips away and retreats to the other side of the room, causing Staci’s heart to sink in disappointment.

  
“Sorry to interrupt your quality time with Mr. Seed,” Rook drawls. “But we need you at the station, stat.”

  
With a sigh Staci stares out the window, watching the last wisps of smoke dissipate into the afternoon sky. “This better be important.”

  
“As important as an anonymous tip accusing Sharky Boshaw of starting the forest fire and a conspiracy theory involving the Seeds are,” Rook responds frankly.

  
Staci blinks. “I’ll, uh… be right there.” He hangs up before Rook can say anything else and tentatively makes his way across the room. Jacob’s lounging in front of the fireplace, face carefully neutral.

  
“Everything all right?” he asks, casual.

  
“I should be asking you that,” Staci says. Jacob chuckles quietly.

  
“I suppose you’re not staying for dinner, then.” He’s trying to return things to normal, Staci realizes. And like the coward he is, he takes the out.

  
“Sorry. I’m needed at the station.”

  
Jacob leans back in his seat. “Far be it from me to drag you away from your work.” When Staci hesitates he offers a small smile. “Go on, Peaches. Don’t worry about it.”

  
“…Alright. Thanks for your hospitality.”

  
“Thanks for your help.” Another moment passes where they just stare at each other, neither really wanting to leave. Judge snaps Staci out of his trance when she nudges at his hand with her cold nose, sniffing him before curling up at her owner’s feet.

  
“Uh, bye,” Staci blurts, then hastens over to the front door. The cold winter air swirls inside when he leaves, only glancing back once before heading back to his vehicle. It’s only when he’s finally seated in the warm sanctuary of his car that he slumps over the steering wheel and takes a deep breath.

  
Damn. He fucked up.


	5. winter wonderland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Healthy communication, tragedy, and a nice Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'll write a spinoff based around Rook next, idk.

Sharky’s in the interrogation room when Staci arrives, and while it’s not an uncommon sight, there are a few things that immediately raise red flags. Namely, the fact that Sharky’s denying any connection to the incident. Normally he’d take all the credit and start bragging, then guiltily apologize for the property damage.

  
“Look, I dunno what they told you, but I’m innocent,” the pyromaniac is saying to Rook and the Sheriff. “Never even gone up to the Whitetails in the past week or so.”

  
Rook waves Staci inside. “Do you have an alibi?” Sharky raises a cuffed hand in greeting as he enters.

  
“I was home all day ‘n’ yesterday. You can ask Aunt Addie, she’ll vouch for me.” Normally the word of a family member would not be considered a solid alibi, but in the case of Adelaide Drubman, the whole county knew to take her seriously. If Sharky was lying, she’d most likely smack the back of his head and then tell the deputies to lock him up.

  
The Sheriff still seems suspicious. “The report stated that it was a gasoline fire. You mean to tell me that you, a registered serial arsonist, didn’t pour gasoline all over the forest?” At the mention of gasoline something clicks in Staci’s mind.

  
“Yessir.”

  
“Sheriff Whitehorse, that illegal dumping report from about a week ago involved gasoline,” Staci blurts. “Do you think…?”

  
“Last week. Your alibi doesn’t cover that.” The Sheriff shoots Sharky a look.

  
“Actually, Sharky couldn’t have done it,” Rook interrupts. “He was in holding for most of that week-“

  
“-because he was on trial,” Staci murmurs, realization dawning on him. “Because John came in and needed film evidence from us!”

  
“Howzabout that,” Sharky grins. “Being in jail has got me out of jail.”

  
The Sheriff’s face scrunches up as if trying to process all the information, but before he can say anything Hudson taps on the window, holding her hand to her ear in the symbol for a phone call. He huffs and uncuffs Sharky, motioning for him to stay there, before exiting the room.

  
There’s a moment of blessed silence and peace, before Sharky turns to Rook and offers, “If it helps ya any, I think that John guy really likes you. He sure talks about you a lot”-at this point Rook could not be any redder-“for a guy who says he hates you. Also, whenever we were taking a break from all that legal bull, he’d whip out his phone and start chatting you up.” He gives Rook a devilish grin. you let him call you what, like ten times?”

  
“Twelve, actually,” Staci chimes in, ignoring the look of betrayal Rook sends his way.

  
“I save you from another couple weeks in jail and this is my reward,” he groans. Sharky tips his hat.

  
“And thanks for that. Y’all are real good folks.” He pauses. “Maybe start using John’s number for somethin’ else besides business, yeah?”

  
Rook’s saved from further humiliation by the Sheriff and Hudson’s return. “Sharky, it seems like you’ve been framed. Can you think of anyone who’d have a grudge against you?” Hudson asks.

  
“Well, there was that lady at the store who called me a maniac. And the utilities guy who came to fix our pipes didn’t seem too fond of me either. Oh!” He snaps his fingers. “Actually, there was this shady real estate agent who came over. Wanted us to sell our land, got real huffy when we said no.”

  
“Did you get his name?”

  
“Hmm, Pat? Paul? I dunno, he looked like a Paul to me.”

  
“Alright. We’ll keep an eye out for this Paul fella. In the meantime, you’re free to go,” the Sheriff says. “Don’t go starting any fires now, y’hear?”

  
“Roger that.” Sharky salutes and waltzes out of the room. The Sheriff sighs and follows him, leaving the three deputies in total silence.

  
Hudson tilts her head and gestures toward the door,. “Let’s get out of here, it’s gonna get dark soon.” At their blank stares she huffs, crossing her arms. “Hey, you want to hear this theory or not?”

  
~

  
“So there’s this thing that’s been nagging me for a while, and hearing Sharky’s story just now added more fuel to the fire.” Hudson takes a swig of her drink, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She’s a heavier and better drinker than both of them; Mary May is already readying a second glass for her.

  
As the designated driver, Staci’s not drinking, but it’s not like he enjoys the taste of alcohol too much anyway. He keeps quiet, waiting for Hudson to continue.

  
“So he said ‘Paul’ was a real estate agent, right?” They nod. “Well, while you-“ she points to Rook “-were flirting with our prisoner and Pratt was taking his day off, I was stuck with boring paperwork.” Rook opens his mouth to protest but Hudson cuts him off. “Dude, don’t pretend you weren’t getting all chummy with Joseph in his cell. I don’t blame you. Plus,” she downs the rest of her drink and Mary May slides the second over to her, “it’s pretty entertaining to watch you go after **two** of the Seed brothers. You’ve got balls, man.”

  
Rook’s a lightweight but the flush on his face is definitely not from alcohol. Staci takes pity on him. “Can we get back on track? What was up with your paperwork?”

  
Hudson clicks her tongue at him. “You’re no fun. Anyway, I don’t care much for filing reports, but I did notice something interesting. Of the 15 or so minor complaints we received, 11 of them were about quote-unquote ‘repeat soliciting’ or some form of unwanted contact from a stranger. I’ll bet it’s the same guy. But it’s not just that.” She leans forward, lowering her voice. “All 11 of those complaints were from people who own large plots of land, several acres or more. So the theory is that Paul is trying to buy up or intimidate people off their land, which would fit Sharky’s description that he’s a real estate agent.”

  
“So what does this have to do with the Seeds?” Rook asks.

  
“Well…” Hudson pauses, as if gauging their attentiveness. “When John came down to the station today, he told me something important.”

  
Rook holds a hand up. “Wait, John was at the station? Why didn’t he tell me?”

  
“He’s trying to get Joseph out of jail, maybe he didn’t want to be distracted, lover-boy.” Rook’s obviously more drunk than he was before as he doesn’t respond to the teasing, instead just making a complicated face. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous…” Hudson pats his back consolingly. “John’s pretty much obsessed with you, you don’t have anything to worry about.”

  
Staci sighs. It’s hard being the only sober one in a conversation. “Hudson, what did John say?”

  
“Oh! We talked a bit about how we were going to call up the judge who issued the warrant, then he talked about the church for a bit, and on an offhand remark he said their church, Eden’s Gate, owns a lot of the land around here. Since he’s a lawyer a lot of it’s under his name.”

  
“You think the Seeds are the next target,” Staci mutters. “Right. Well, it’s not like this Paul guy has done anything drastic, right? So it’s probably fine. I guess we can keep an eye on the Seeds just in case, though.” He puts a hand on Hudson’s arm, trying to prevent her from flagging down Mary May again, and slaps a 20 on the bar counter. “You’ll thank me tomorrow,” he tells her. She makes a face at him but reluctantly lowers her hand.

  
He drops Hudson off at her house first and then heads home with Rook in tow. The streets are mostly dark at this point, trees black silhouettes in the night. When they get back to their condo he helps Rook walk to the bathroom and leaves a glass of water on his nightstand, then goes to sleep on the couch.

  
He tries not to put too much stock in Hudson’s theory, but between the guilt over what happened with Jacob earlier and the creeping fear that something bad’s going to happen, he doesn’t get much sleep that night.

  
~

  
Body heavy and tired, and with crusts around his eyes, Staci hesitates as he goes through his to-do list for the day. On one hand, he’d rather avoid the eldest Seed as much as possible and run away from his problems. But Jacob said he’d be welcome anytime, and he can pick up the medicine, and maybe if he can pussy up and muster the courage he can tell Jacob everything that he should have said but didn’t. On that note, he drives to John’s house, leaving Rook to deal with his (hopefully light) hangover alone.

  
John’s just about to leave when he shows up, but when Staci mentions Jacob’s medicine he willingly retrieves it from the house. He winks and tells him to help Jacob apply it (‘it’ being a bottle of aloe vera based ointment). Staci flushes and smiles and very carefully does not tell John that he and his brother are on awkward terms right now.

  
He sends a quick text before starting up the car, saying _I have your medicine, is now a good time_? He reads the response at the next red light. _Come on over._

  
Jacob’s waiting outside for him when he arrives, and he looks almost glad to see him (although that might only be wishful thinking). Staci drives up and rolls the window down, handing him the bottle.

  
“Thanks,” Jacob says. Then, “I’m sure you can guess what this is for.” He sounds a tad resigned, self-depreciating.

  
“It was no problem...” Staci pauses for a moment, mustering his courage. “I, uh, actually wanted to talk to you-“

  
Jacob holds up a hand, and his heart drops. “And I wanted to talk to you. Listen, I did some thinking about what you said yesterday. You know, my… condition isn’t really the best for cultivating relationships.” Staci braces himself for rejection, and Jacob sighs. “No need to look so down, Peaches. It’s not like I’m not interested. Because, believe me, you’re a damn fine catch, and I’d be stupid to just let you go like that.” A warm flush spreads across Staci’s face, fueled by tender hope. “It’s just, I’d need to take some time to work my way up to that. ‘S been a while since I’ve been such a big part of someone’s life, is all. I…” Jacob takes a wavering breath and slowly exhales. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

  
One look into those blue eyes and Staci realizes Jacob’s just as terrified as he is, probably even more so. He’s still in the car, and part of him wants to jump out and give the other man a hug. Instead, he smiles reassuringly and extends his hand out the open window. Jacob clasps it, squeezing slightly as if making sure that he’s real. “Whatever you’re comfortable with,” Staci tells him. “For the record, I don’t want to mess this up either.”

  
The tension in Jacob’s body eases slightly at that. “Do you want to come in? I was planning on practicing my shooting for a bit.”

  
Staci bites his lip and gives him an apologetic glance. “I have to be at work by 9. I can come by after, though?”

  
Jacob gives him a crooked half-smile. “That’d be nice.” He squeezes Staci’s hand once more before letting go. “I’ll see you then, Peaches.”

  
“See you.” He rolls up the window with a light giddiness in his heart and only glances back a couple of times (which he considers a win). Jacob’s still standing there watching him leave by the time he turns the corner onto the main road.

  
~

  
The next few weeks go by in a blur. He spends more time with the Seeds than usual (partially due to Hudson’s conspiracy theory that they might be in trouble, something he’ll never admit to her).  
As often as he can (usually after work) he visits Jacob. Occasionally he’ll bring a couple fresh fruits or vegetables: a pair of apples, a single white onion, a head of cabbage, a half dozen miniature tangerines. Jacob seems to find his concern amusing, but doesn’t ask him to stop. They spend time tending to the animals, hiking, sometimes fishing or hunting. More often than not, their interactions are quiet, but Staci never feels like it’s awkward or tense. Rather, the silence is comfortable, born of mutual understanding and appreciation of the company. Jacob even teaches him to cook a couple of things. The morning after Staci surprises Rook with omelets and Rook actually almost cries, saying he gives Jacob his ‘approval’ to marry Staci if this is what comes from it. Staci throws his spoon at him.

  
But it’s not just Jacob. He chats with Joseph when he’s on his breaks. Generally he’s distant and lost in thought when Staci arrives, writing things down in a notebook or staring blankly at the wall as if waiting for inspiration to strike. The man doesn’t seem too bothered by the fact that he’s in a cell and whenever Staci comes he politely inquires about Rook (which amuses Staci to no end). Joseph’s not subtle by any means. The deputies take turns bringing him coffee sometimes. He always thanks them and mutters a short prayer before taking a careful sip.  
After a week or so it’s revealed that the judge who issued the warrant was not even aware of his existence, and he is released. All three of his siblings arrive at the station to take him home, John looking slightly frazzled but mostly relieved, Faith joyfully hugging him the moment he exits the cell, and Jacob patting him on the back gently, as if sensing his brother’s fragility. The moment he steps outside into the winter sun, though, it seems like he becomes another person entirely. His back straightens and he looks up as though seeing into another realm. Then he closes his eyes and begins walking.

  
“Jo, that’s not safe,” Faith protests. Jacob puts a hand on his brother’s shoulder, guiding him to walk straight. Joseph doesn’t seem bothered by his lack of sight, steps steady and certain.

  
“God will protect me,” he replies. Jacob rolls his eyes and huffs.

  
“I’m protecting you. From walking straight into oncoming traffic.” The four lovingly bicker, and Staci waits until they’re out of earshot before turning to go back into the station.

  
The Sheriff whistles beside him. “He sure is a strange one, that Joseph Seed.”

  
Other times Staci visits Faith, once he realizes her flower shop is within walking distance of the station. She’s always delighted to see him, no matter how many times he visits. He buys flowers for Hudson and Rook (not Jacob, he doesn’t know if that’s too forward yet or what). Faith likes to tell him what each flower means, and while it’s not normally his thing it’s hard not to be fascinated when she talks about some of the darker meanings in the same bubbly tone she uses to greet the small kids that come in to play from time to time. He can definitely see her resemblance to Joseph in the way she tends to space out, looking a bit lost before snapping back into focus when he asks if she’s alright. Rook tends not to visit on account of his allergies but he knows Hudson takes off after work to help her water the plants and close the shop.

  
John’s the one he sees the least. While Joseph was still incarcerated he had dropped by every other day to check on him and to update him on the situation (Staci had been mostly ignored in favor of talking to Rook and Hudson). After that, the most Staci had seen of him had been a glimpse here and there while patrolling, a chance encounter at the grocery store and Jacob pointing out his plane in the sky and explaining that John loves flying.

  
Maybe he should have paid more attention to what the plane looked like, because it becomes very relevant the next time he sees him.

  
~

  
He and Rook are driving past a large field alongside the Henbane when the deafening roar of a plane approaches. “I think that’s John,” Rook says, squinting as it passes overhead, pretty close to the ground. Then, “Oh shit!”

  
The aircraft crashes into the field, leaving a trench several yards long behind it as it slows to a stop. Smoke rises from the wreckage, the small flicker of flames visible near the tail end. Staci swerves to the side and even before he’s put the car in park Rook’s already leaping out, wading through a narrower part of the river and sprinting toward the plane. Staci stares for a moment in awe as Rook fearlessly dives in, re-emerging seconds later carrying John’s unconscious body over his shoulder. Then he snaps out of his daze and dials for an ambulance. Rook’s reached the river by the time he’s done telling them exactly where to go and has John’s entire body submerged in the water, minus his face.

  
“He’s burnt, I think,” Rook yells over at him. “Get some stuff from the back.” Staci quickly complies, grabbing the emergency kit and making his way over, keeping a cautious eye on the smoldering wreckage in the field. The last thing they need is an explosion.

  
John stirs and blinks as he looks up at Rook. “Why am I in a river?” he asks, utterly confused.

  
“You were in an accident,” Rook gently tells him. “Does anything hurt?” John closes his eyes against the sun.

  
“My head a little, yeah.” He makes to stand and Rook helps support him, leading him out of the water. “I’m usually the one doing the baptizing, you know,” he tells them seriously.

  
“Sure, John.” Rook takes the first towel Staci offers him and soaks it before handing it to John. “Put this on your face, alright?” He takes the second one and starts briskly drying John off (despite the other’s insistence that he can do it himself), then drapes his jacket over his shoulders. Staci has to remind Rook to dry **himself** off, then turns the heat up in the car as they wait for backup to arrive.

  
The paramedics put John in the ambulance, and they trail them all the way to the hospital in silence. For all his antagonistic act, Rook seems genuinely worried. “You did good,” Staci tells him. “He’s gonna be fine.” _I should have helped more_ , he thinks somewhat guiltily. Rook, perhaps sensing the mood, pats his shoulder and sighs.

  
“Yeah, he’ll be all right.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself. “It’s a good thing we were there.”

  
“Yeah.” Now all that’s left is to wait.

  
~

  
The hospital is as welcoming as a hospital could be, Staci supposes. The walls are wallpapered and feature random pictures of nature in simple frames, and the building is warm to counteract the chill of winter. They’re all waiting outside John’s room: him, Rook, Hudson and the rest of the Seeds. Jacob’s a ball of tightly woven tension, standing with his arms crossed against the wall. Staci aches to go over and comfort him but he’s not sure if it would be well received at this point in time, especially since they still don’t know how badly John’s hurt yet. Hudson has Faith’s head resting in her lap, the blonde having cried her eyes out until she was exhausted. She seems a little more composed now that she’s gotten most of her tears out, although Hudson’s soothing pets to her head seem to be working their own magic. Joseph has his own head bowed, and has been muttering prayers fervently ever since he arrived, eyes closed in supplication. In contrast, Rook’s unusually quiet.

  
The nurse exits the room and everyone (save Joseph) looks up. “He has a mild concussion and a couple of first degree burns, but nothing that can’t be healed over time. Thankfully, the skin was cooled before the damage could get any worse.” Hudson nods approvingly at Rook, and Jacob lets out an almost imperceptible sigh of relief. He doesn’t want to see John with his scars, Staci realizes, and the urge to comfort him surges anew.

  
“He’ll have to stay a couple of nights,” the nurse adds apologetically. “We can allow two visitors at a time in right now, if anyone wants to see him.”

  
Faith’s hand shoots up. “Ooh, I want to go!” She jumps up and pulls Hudson with her. The two disappear into the room, Faith’s joyful exclamations muffled through the door.

  
A few minutes later, the two return. “John wants to see you two,” Hudson informs Staci and Rook. Rook glances over to Jacob.

  
“You should probably go first.” Jacob shakes his head.

  
“I’d better not.” He pauses, working his jaw, not looking at them. “Don’t know if I’d be able to take it.”

  
“All right,” Rook acquiesces. “Joseph?” The middle brother’s still praying in his chair, seemingly not even registering his voice.

  
“I’ll snap him out of it,” Jacob says. “You two go on ahead.”

  
John’s sitting up in the hospital bed, waiting expectantly. “Deputies,” he greets. “I wanted to thank you. Personally. Not just for saving me,” he adds. “But for everything you’ve done for our family. All my siblings tell me good things about you two.” Staci’s not surprised when he turns to Rook.

  
“Deputy Rook. I’d… like to apologize. We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. So, if you’re willing, I’d like to start again. A clean slate, if you will.” He offers his hand.

  
Rook shakes it. “Of course.” He fishes around in his pocket for something with his other hand, holding it out for John to take. “You, uh, had this on you, during the whole… yeah.”

  
The item in question is a charred pair of sunglasses, the ones Staci’s seen John wearing almost all the time. John gives Rook a look full of unidentifiable emotion.

  
“Thank you.” He huffs out a laugh. “If you can, send Joseph in for me? I know Jake probably doesn’t want to see me like this.”

  
“Will do,” Rook replies. “See you later, John.” He slips outside.

  
Before Staci can follow, John snatches his wrist, catching him off guard. “Take care of him for me,” he requests. His eyes are very similar to his brother’s, slightly brighter blue, and shining with candidness.

  
“’Course. Um… get better soon.” He’s surprised John’s even really talking to him, and it must show, since John’s lips quirk upward.

  
Staci leaves the room just as Joseph enters, still muttering quietly. Jacob catches his shoulder and maneuvers him over to where Rook is.

  
“Thank you,” he tells them both. “For saving him.” Staci instinctively makes a face.

  
“Rook’s the one who ran into a burning plane,” he says. “I just called for help.” Rook gives him a look like _what are you talking about?_

  
“Without you he wouldn’t have gotten medical attention as fast as he did,” Jacob says. Then he carefully reaches out and pulls Staci into a loose embrace, as though he’s afraid he’ll try to run at the first contact. “You did good, Peaches.”

  
Staci relaxes into it, trying to make himself believe Jacob’s words. They separate when Joseph exits the room, watching as he heads straight towards Rook.

  
Joseph puts his hands on Rook’s shoulders and looks him straight in the eyes. “You saved my brother,” he says, voice soft and intense. “I owe you everything. If there is **anything** I can do for you, just say the word. Anything you want.”

  
Rook blinks once, flustered, before putting his own hands on Joseph’s shoulders, steadying him. “What I want,” he starts, “is for you to rest. Go eat something, and get some sleep.” Joseph’s brow furrows. “John’s going to be fine, alright? You’ve done enough praying for him. We don’t want you getting sick, too.”

  
Joseph lowers his eyes and smiles slightly, a bittersweet smile. He murmurs something that makes Rook flush, too soft for Staci to hear. Then he tells Rook “as you say” and goes to grab Faith.

  
“I’ll drive them back to the house,” Jacob says. “You three’d better get some rest, too.” The family leaves, and Hudson gives them both knowing smirks.

  
“You two are smitten.” She stands. “I’m heading back, you boys drive safely now.” She follows the others out.

  
“Yeah.” Rook slings an arm over Staci’s shoulders. “Let’s go home.”

  
~

  
Christmas sneaks up on them, and by the time Staci remembers it’s already the day before. He buys some flowers from Faith and picks up a couple of things from various stores, swept along by the other last-minute shoppers. He’s not used to buying presents for that many people, so it’s a strange feeling to be holding so many bags. He also writes and mails a letter to his mother, wishing her a happy holiday season.

  
Come Christmas day, he and Rook go out to visit John in the hospital. Staci brings the flowers and Rook brings a couple of pancakes on a foil-wrapped cardboard plate. The rest of the Seeds are already there, and they’ve modestly decorated John’s room for the season. Faith had snuck a single red rose into the bouquet he’d bought, and at her insistence he summons his courage and presents it to Jacob, who honest to God blushes.

  
They leave the Seeds to their family celebration and then head over to Hudson’s place. She, as with every year, has cooked up a Christmas lunch for the three of them. And like every year, she’s forgotten the drinks, so Staci and Rook already have a liter of soda, two nice bottles of wine and a sparkling water in the trunk.

  
They eat and exchange gifts: Rook receives a sturdy chain on which to hang his belt-charm (Staci), two overly sappy blank “love confession” cards as a gag gift, and a new jacket (Hudson). Hudson unwraps a terribly packaged mug from Rook that reads “Don’t talk to me before I’ve had my morning liquid patriotism” and has a little ceramic hand inside with the middle finger pointed skyward. She also gets a “Kiss the cook and my fist will kiss your face” apron from Staci (he had found it a couple months back and thought it would suit her particularly well). Finally, Staci opens a jacket similar to Rook’s from Hudson, a stress ball in the shape of a pine tree with a smiley face (Rook’s gag gift) and a sleek silver water bottle with a wolf pattern on it (also from Rook).

  
The rest of the day is spent chatting and playing games like UNO (where Staci dominates the competition) and Cards Against Humanity (which mostly consists of them picking through the deck trying to find the funniest combinations). 

  
They end up falling asleep on the couches, Hudson’s hair still in her braid, Rook with his phone balanced on his forehead, and Staci with his body half hanging over the edge. A gentle snowfall starts overnight, and by the time the sun rises the trees are dusted in fine white powder.

  
And for a single night, Hope County is quiet and peaceful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My personal headcanon is that Hudson tells Pratt to “pussy up” so often that he’s started using the phrase himself.
> 
> Also, I imagine Joseph's kind of like Chirrut from Star Wars (Rogue One), who I really liked as a character. So I had to put a little reference to that in here.


End file.
